


Of peaceful silence

by itsdatrollmon



Series: Hi-Def Reality AU [1]
Category: The Creatures (Youtube RPF)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Parallels, Pining, Realistic, Stream of Consciousness, Unrequited Love, parentheses usually denote being in control, yay first post
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 16:32:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2157537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsdatrollmon/pseuds/itsdatrollmon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James bakes a cake.</p><p>[[They don’t have a measuring cup. But that’s okay, because the clerk at the store gave him tiny easy-open packages, and taught him how to estimate measurements off the markings on the boxes. The guy probably saw how lost he was so he offered advice before James could even ask. (“Hello sir, would you like some assistance? Who might you be cooking for?”)]]</p><p>Unrequited love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of peaceful silence

**Author's Note:**

> A "sort-of" stream of consciousness thing. Follows as much of reality as it possibly can.  
> Parentheses can denote being in control.

He gets up at 7:59AM. His phone alarm’s about a minute from actually going off, so he kills it before it does. He hauls ass outta bed, pops his back, and grabs his iPad.

He’s up entirely too early, but then again, James isn’t really sure if he’d screw up or something so some extra time was in order. He flicks through the tablet, gets onto YouTube. He doesn’t look at the notifications as he goes out his room, down the stairs. The only lighting in the house is the orange sunrise, its rays inching across the kitchen counters like fingers.

There is a kindly old woman on his screen, now, so he pauses the video and navigates quickly to another tab. His fingers flit across the screen rapidly, presses at the first thing that pops up on Google. The link is already colored purple, because he’d visited it already last night. _(And a few days ago too, actually.)_

He’s still not sure if he can do this right. He thinks of calling his mom, remembers the time – decides against it. _(It’ll be tough to explain everything anyway, especially when he’s nowhere he can look her in the eye.)_  Instead he skims the page, reaches out to put a jar onto the kitchen island, and props the screen up against it. Then he starts on the drawers.

There isn’t a lot of stuff in there, so James makes do with the big plastic bowl, the plastic spoon. He was pretty sure they wouldn’t have a flat wide glass dish-thing, so it’s a great thing he decided to buy that ahead of time  _(yesterday)_. He didn’t really think to invest in kitchen appliances since he didn’t really make a habit of being in the kitchen for anything else aside from eating, and maybe he’s regretting that a little bit now.

He still kinda wishes he also bought an electric mixer, though, even if it was just for this.

A yawn. Goddamn it, he still isn’t totally awake, is he? It’d be kinda sad to screw up just because his focus was shot, so he shuts his eyes, inhales meditatively, then goes to get the shitty coffee powder. Maybe he should buy them a more hi-tech coffee maker, the kind that can brew with actual coffee beans and had that nice musky smell _(like the one he never had back home with Mom)_ , but now he’ll have to deal with this.

It’s 8:40 when he drinks it, one big gulp so he doesn’t have to deal with the taste for any longer than he has to.

There is a big, brown paper bag stashed in the fridge, in the vegetable compartment. James yanks off the tag reading “James’ Dirty Socks, By All Means Touch It Aleks”, and yanks out the whole paper monstrosity. He manages to pull out a small carton of eggs, a bag of flour, grease spray, vanilla extract, baking powder. There’s still some sugar and milk in the house so those two things aren’t in the bag. He sets those onto the kitchen island, turns back to his iPad, and finds the tab with the old lady in it. He presses the tiny arrow on the video.

“Hello everyone, today we’ll be –“ he skips ahead, “ – these are the things you’ll need. One cup of white sugar …”

James momentarily zones out the audio, looks back at his ingredients. They don’t have a measuring cup. But that’s okay, because the clerk at the store gave him tiny easy-open packages, and taught him how to estimate measurements off the markings on the boxes. The guy probably saw how lost he was so he offered advice before James could even ask.  _(“Hello sir, would you like some assistance? Who might you be cooking for?”)_

The flour and the baking powder go together in the bowl easily enough, since they were both dry. He mixes them thoroughly, though about ten seconds in he has no godly idea if they’re actually getting mixed since they’re practically the same shade of white. ( _Whatever.)_ Mashing the butter and sugar together into a creamy substance in some deep Tupperware he found isn’t that hard, either, though he’s not sure if he overdid the vanilla since he may have put a little more than two teaspoons to make sure the flavor really stuck.

At this point he can’t really screw up, right? But he manages to stick his thumb into an egg while trying to open it over the cream mixture, so he tosses that one in the bin. The other two eggs make it in there safely, and he whisks everything together as carefully as he could in the Tupperware thing. It…looks sort of okay after a couple of minutes, so he pours it in with the flour and baking powder, gives everything a good mix.

He sprays the glass flat-dish thing with as much grease as he felt comfortable with, since – wasn’t grease flammable and, what, did he want to bring the house down in a raging confectionary inferno?  _(And should he really pour everything in now? Maybe he should let it sit a bit, ‘cause he doesn’t want the grease fucking with the goods and making everything bad. He’s really only got one shot at this now, since he only bought four eggs and he screwed up one.)_

He glances at the iPad, watches the old lady pop a pan into an oven…sort of like the oven which he forgot to pre-heat. Damn it. So that means he’s set back a few more minutes. He turns the dial up to 350 degrees. ( _If this were pizza he’d just heat it for half as long, but yeah, not pizza, something delicate here.)_

9:45 and he’s got a flat dish with stuff on it and a preheated oven. He tries shoving the dish into the metal thing, stops midway because it’s too hot in there and he didn’t wear an oven mitt – but yeah, it’s too far and he won’t be long anyway – shoves it in as fast as he could without unbalancing it  _(OW GODDAMN IT)_ and slams the door shut. Now he waits. And he should probably get toothpaste on that burn.

His hand is held out about as far as it can get from the rest of his body, a bright red welt across the back of it where he hit the inside of the oven. He goes up the stairs and into the bathroom, squeezes out a glob of Colgate in his other hand, and –

“The hell are you doing, James?”

Dammit.  _What the fuck is he doing up so early?_

“Uh,” it takes most of James’ willpower to fight the urge to scramble about, so he doesn’t know where he gets the strength to look Aleks in the eye. But he does. He shrugs, hopes it comes off as nonchalant.  _(Act natural!)_ “I…I got…burnt.” He waves his injured hand slightly, as if to show Aleks it isn’t broken, but really he just doesn’t want to stop long enough for Aleks to see his hands shake.  _(God, it looks worse in the bathroom light.)_

Aleks makes a grab for his hand; James twitches away on instinct, immediately feels stupid for doing so, and lets Aleks have a look at it anyway. He lets his palm be turned this way and that  _(tries to swallow back the heartbeats pulsing up his throat, stop the cold sweat beading up on his nape)._

“You planning to use  _that_  on this?” Aleks asks, eyebrows scrunched at the toothpaste drooping slowly down James’ uninjured palm, and James doesn’t trust his voice enough to speak so he mumbles something close to ‘yes’. Aleks rolls his eyes, drops his hand, and turns the tap to the coldest setting. “Put your hand under that – no wait, you know what, just put both your hands in there. Wash that shit off. Jeez, you’re not supposed to use toothpaste on burns, they make things worse! Seriously, look it up on Google.”

James does as he’s told. If Aleks has noticed his unusual compliance, he’s being quiet now and not making an issue out of it. Kinda weird. In fact – James glances at him –“You going out?”

Aleks ‘hm’s, tucks his cellphone in his jacket pocket. He’s decked out in a smart-casual outfit, set off with a pair of black Converses and topped off with a beanie. His collar’s a little crumpled.  _(James tries not to want to smoothen it out, plants his feet onto where he stands front of the sink so that he doesn’t. get. closer.)_

“Yeah uh –“ Aleks pauses, pulls up a light blue sleeve, checks his watch. 10:15. The air about him changes, and he smiles  _(and James holds his breath as his world becomes a pretty shade of pink)._  Aleks shrugs shyly, “I’m gonna…gonna meet with Domi in a few minutes,” he grins, “I got a date.”

 

_I got a date._

 

_…ah._

“It’s my birthday today, James,” Aleks reminds him gently, gray amusement in his voice, and James is lucky that he’s used to pretending to look surprised because up goes his eyebrows and wide goes his eyes and  _down, down, down he goes._

“Oh, well,” the sink is still running. James turns it off, pats his hands down with a small towel. He can’t possibly take a breath to steady himself without looking the slightest bit _broken_ , so he steels himself,  _(grapples for stability)_ and – “Aleksandr I had no idea!” James booms out, extending his arms outwards and moving in for a hug. “Happy birthday! You should have told me earlier!”

 Aleks hugs him back. James doesn’t dare hold the embrace a second longer. “I’m kinda insulted that you didn’t know,” he chuckles, “but yeah. Happy birthday to me. It’s gonna be great. Just me, Dominika, good food, and,” he pauses – sniffs the air. James curses inwardly.

“Something cooking?” Aleks asks, and heads to the stairs.  _Oh no._ James’ brain starts working overtime.

“Yeah! Well,” James says, grinning, “Did you seriously think I was gonna forget about your birthday?” James shoves Aleks out of his way, races down the stairs, into the kitchen, and assumes a pose beside the oven. By the time Aleks makes it to the doorway, James is ready with a grin and a “Ta-da! Cake a la Ubre Haxour Noveau!”

 “Holy shit, James, are you serious?” Aleks is frozen where he stands, and his face looks like a cross between amused and oddly touched.He starts to make his way towards the oven, but James waves him away.

“Well, yeah, and no,” he says, and the lie already feels natural on his tongue, “this was gonna be for a prank video. I kinda…” James lets his facial expression speak for him  _(because sometimes not saying less is getting away with more…or, something like that)._  Aleks pauses, scrunches his face as if he’s trying to figure it out, and – to James’ relief – looks properly disgusted once he comes to his own conclusion.

“You –“ Aleks grimaces, “you put something in it, didn’t you! God, you were gonna make me eat it too!”

James raises his hands in a _(calculated)_ placating gesture, “yeah with laxatives and some rotten fruit but that was before you told me you’d be out today! Okay, it’s your birthday, you wanna have a good time and I respect that. I promise I’ll throw this out.”

“Bullshit! I don’t wanna find that again later, James!” Aleks play-yells. This...this was back to normal. James can deal with this. James' grin grows wider, feels more natural  _(and this is starting to feel okay )_ , and that just makes Aleks yell again, “throw that shit out!”

“I will, I will! Chill out!”

But Aleks isn't having any of it because he says, “throw it out  _now_ , James,” like a casual joke and –  _something inside James breaks a little._ Aleks laughs, and it’s a _beautiful_ sound, so James focuses on that  _and tries not to hear his own heart shatter._ "I'm not leaving until I'm sure that shit's gone!"

 

_(He gets up at 7:59AM.)_

 

_(“– these are the things you’ll need. One cup of white sugar - ”)_

 

_(" - gonna meet with Domi in a few minutes. I got a date.")_

 

_(“ - Hello sir, would you like some assistance? Who might you be cooking for?”)_

 

_(- tries to swallow back the heartbeats pulsing up his throat, stop the cold sweat beading up on his nape)_

 

_("Who might you be cooking for? Is it someone special?")_

James  _almost_ stops,  _almost gives up the act_ but he knows better. Instead he  _(relaxes his face, remembers his expressions)_ rolls his eyes, stops the timer, and uses a spare dishcloth to pull the pan out  _(which he totally should have done to avoid burning himself in the first place, avoid this whole mess in the first place)._  The cake smell wafts into his nose full force, and the sheer deliciousness shakes his resolve a little.  _(But he’s stronger than that.)_

He _breathes_ in, sighs loudly,puts on a pout. “Smell it though, Aleks! It smells  _so good!_ ”

Aleks wrinkles his nose. “It smells of delicious deceit,” he says hatefully. James  _snorts in amusement_ , resigns himself to dumping the tray in the sink, and lets the water run. Globs of half-developed cake dissolve in big clumps of gross looking stuff.  _(It would have been so good.)_  James  _grins_  and dunks a non-injured fist into the mutant-pudding mixture and lobs a tiny clump of white goop at Aleks.

“ _Augh_  you asshole!” Aleks yells. The goop falls a foot short of him, but he’s halfway out the kitchen doorway when James dunks his hand into the sink again. “You asshole! Stop!”

James  _laughs_ , “just go to your fuckin’ date, you jerk,” and the moment it comes out of his mouth something inside him  _twists_  and  _tears_  and  _hurts so fucking bad_ but he grits his teeth against it,  _strong_ , because  _he really shouldn’t have expected anything else_. “Happy birthday!” he yells to Aleks’ middle finger. The door slams shut a few seconds later, and the house falls back into the peaceful silence of the morning.

 

 _Silence_.

 

It’s just him again, and the empty cartons, and whatever’s left of the flour and baking powder and vanilla. He turns back to the sink, shakes off clumps of unbaked cake from his fingers. He splashes water onto his face, blinking his eyes fiercely against the sting _(of soap that somehow made it into his eyes even if he hasn’t even used it yet because that should be the only thing that would do this to him_ , really,  _nothing else)._  It takes longer than he expected to lift his head back up, from watching droplets run down his nose and into the drain, but…he gets there.  _(He always does.)_  He’s okay.

Remnants of baking still hang in the air, sickly sweet with the scent of vanilla and flour _(and worry, excitement, anticipation, hope)._  It's stuffy. James leans over a counter and starts opening the windows.

10:45AM, and there are a lot of dishes to do. He might as well get started early.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment to tell me what you think or leave a kudos if you liked it! :)  
> Bonus points for people who dig up all the parallels (i hope i used that term right)! :D


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